The Evil Thoughts of Hogwarts and the Genie

Chapter 175 Assassination of the Genie

The Squib named Joanna wanted to answer, but Abraxas Malfoy didn't give her a chance to defend herself.

Directly stealing the white path:

"Not everyone deserves your mercy, Minister."

He spoke with righteous indignation, and just by looking at his expression, one might even think he was a righteous messenger who stood up for justice.

"These bastards have proven with their actions that they are by no means a vulnerable group in need of help, Madam Minister,"

They behaved like a pack of untamed wild beasts, practically indistinguishable from Muggles!

"Watch your words, Mr. Malfoy."

Ms. Jenkins remained kneeling on the ground, her sharp eyes fixed on old Malfoy.

"I understand that you got really angry in the heat of the moment. In fact, no one could see this and not be heartbroken."

She spoke sincerely, her gaze filled with pity as she looked at the young man in her arms.

This Auror was a complete stranger to her, but Ms. Jenkins looked at him as if he were a blood relative.

Although no one spoke, many Aurors gripped their wands tightly.

Undoubtedly, the Aurors were deeply moved by the fact that their boss's boss was so understanding and empathetic towards their difficulties.

Edmund's lips curled into a subtle smile upon seeing this.

He had long heard that the current Minister of Magic had almost gotten the position by chance, thus rising to the pinnacle of power in the British magical world.

In reality, she didn't have any powerful connections, and her magical talent was only considered excellent, not top-tier.

However, like her favored successor, Mr. Minkham, this witch could be considered a pragmatist.

Putting aside other things, his political acumen and political skills are quite good.

It seems that old Malfoy is unlikely to outmaneuver her with mere emotional manipulation.

This is not surprising.

Although those who support Abraxas Malfoy are all propertied individuals, many of whom are among the wealthiest people in the entire British wizarding world.

However, their numbers were still too small. More importantly, they seemed unable to create wealth or bring benefits to other wizards, nor were they prepared to let go of the sense of superiority brought by their surnames, unwilling to humble themselves or lower their heads.

In comparison, Jenkins understands people better.

She didn't look kind at all; on the contrary, this woman looked very "witch-like," with a strong, hooked nose and very sharp eyes.

But when she looked at the injured Aurors, her cold, hard face immediately softened, revealing the tenderness a stern old man showed when facing his younger generation.

But how much benefit will this actually bring to the Aurors? To be honest, probably not at all.

But the fact that such an important figure showed such concern for everyone always greatly encouraged these Aurors who were always on the front lines in the most dangerous situations.

Edmund couldn't help but smile.

Now he understood completely.

Before, he was a little confused as to why these purebloods, who were living perfectly fine lives, were instead starting to admire Voldemort, who didn't even spare children.

From this perspective, the path to advancement for the pure-blood faction has been completely blocked; neither Jenkins nor her heir, Minkham, are "one of their own."

This might be one of the reasons why these old fogies chose to go to extremes.

anyway.

After offering a few words of reassurance to old Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Jenkins turned her attention back to the group of resentful Squirrels. When she spoke again, her tone was considerably sterner:

"I really don't understand why you won't believe my promise?"

"I have promised your leader that I will restart the Squib Support Association established by Idris Oakbeard; I have also agreed to propose to Wisengamo as soon as possible the creation of laws related to the rights of Squibs."

"If even so, you are still not satisfied—I must admit, even with the best intentions I can't help but complain, 'Don't be so greedy!'"

These words were quite harsh, but the Squirts, who were initially gritting their teeth, looked at each other with disapproval upon hearing them.

"—What?" Joanna asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Seeing that the confusion on her face didn't seem feigned, Ms. Jenkins realized something was wrong.

Her eagle-like gaze shifted to the only one among the mute faces who was still glaring at her menacingly.

"Mr. Filch, what's going on?"

Upon hearing this, Edmund couldn't contain his delight.

Arachne had only been infiltrating this diverse Squib organization for a short time when he discovered that this group of Squibs was a complete mob, with all sorts of people involved, so there was no unified "purpose" to speak of.

They wanted wizards to resolve their treatment issues. But how exactly could this be resolved? To this day, their answers remain inconsistent.

Although Joanna, who can be considered one of the leaders, is relatively calm and has fairly clear demands;

Among the most active participants, Argus Filch, an eccentric man without a family, was a radical through and through.

He didn't necessarily want all the wizards to die, but he was stubborn enough to be completely unyielding.

The pure-blood faction had been discussing how to deal a heavy blow to this Squib before Christmas, and the Ministry of Magic had naturally heard about it.

At that time, Ms. Jenkins met with Filch and made many promises in the hope of extinguishing the situation before it deteriorated further.

Unfortunately, she chose the wrong "leader," mistakenly believing that the Squirt's backbone was the most radical Filch. With Joanna's accusations, the Squirt's reaction was nothing short of chaotic.

Seeing that the "suicide squad" had lost its name, many people looked bewildered, and the purebloods surrounding them laughed, mocking their stupidity and greed.

Ms. Jenkins listened for a while and roughly understood the situation. She wanted to formally call a halt to the matter, but just then, someone moved.

This was a short, burly middle-aged wizard who had been hiding at the back of the crowd, as if he didn't want anyone to see his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes.

He looked very wrong; his eyes were vacant and his breathing was disordered, as if he had suffered a great shock.

This man was none other than Mr. Carlo.

Just as he was slowly making his way toward Edmund and Dumbledore, Argus Filch, who had kept quiet about the situation, also spoke up.

This middle-aged dud, with his ugly old face, cried out in a mournful and desolate voice:

Magic ruined his life! His parents hated him, abused him, and turned him into a monster because he was a Squib;

He fled that damned home, wanting to find a job, but the wizards all spoke the word like it was spitting; they scorned him and mocked him!

He had nothing! He was all alone! Therefore, he was afraid of nothing!

So, Filch smiled, revealing his yellowed teeth.

He said he just wanted revenge.

He wanted to take revenge on this world that had nothing to do with him.

He spoke these words with great passion and fervor. Therefore, of course.

Many purebloods felt their blood pressure spike upon hearing this and unanimously drew their wands.

Dumbledore seemed to have sensed something beforehand, and he seemed to have a lot to say about Argus Filch's words, but whatever Dumbledore was thinking did not affect the speed at which he drew his wand.

"Armor protects you! All curses are broken!"

But the moment he uttered the incantation, old Mr. Carlo, who had been dawdling and dawdling until he finally reached Edmund's back, also extended his wand.

Dumbledore seemed to have eyes in the back of his head and dodged to the side, but then something popped out from under old Carlo's robe.

It was a swift house-elf.

But its target was not Dumbledore.

It rushed straight into Edmund's arms.

Dumbledore reacted immediately. He grabbed and tossed the defenseless house-elf away like a piece of luggage.

The old wizard's expression was terrifying; he saw:

A knife was plunged into Edmund's side, and the young wizard's face had turned deathly pale.